


Home Is Where The Heart Is

by loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS



Series: Plance Through The Years [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Lance (Voltron) Is A Sap, Mushy, Soft Plance, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, pidge is a disaster, super fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:25:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS/pseuds/loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS
Summary: Pidge is going to be the death of him some day. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.





	Home Is Where The Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> my allergies are making me hella ill but writing fluff has been cathartic, so goopy stuff ahead ≧(´▽｀)≦

Lance hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep recently.

He was still waiting to hear back about a possible interview from his first choice med school, and though he’d already done interviews for his backups, waiting for their admission decisions still wasn’t as nervewracking as waiting to get that much desired interview for his top choice. It was absolutely cutting into his psyche which in turn was cutting into his ability to sleep. He kept having nightmares that he wouldn’t ever get the interview and though Pidge was doing her best to keep him from freaking himself out in his own head, it still didn’t change the fact that he was having a harder time dealing with this than he wanted to.

So really, it made perfect sense that on the one night he’d finally been able to de-stress enough to get more than four hours of sleep, that he was rudely interrupted well before his alarm for work had even gone off.

And by his damn apartment fire alarm, no less.

Lance sat up abruptly, heart pounding hard in his chest from the loud beeping ringing in his head and throughout the apartment. At first, his sleep-addled mind thought it was just a dream, but as it continued, he slowly started to note that he could vaguely smell smoke. Pidge wasn’t beside him, and under normal circumstances, he might’ve thought that she snuck out really early to drive back to her parents’ house, but one of her sneakers was still under his desk.

And then he heard Pidge scream.

His grogginess vanished immediately, eyes going wide as he fumbled to tear the covers off his legs. A sharp panic coiled in his stomach as he scrambled to jump out of bed, limbs a bit clumsy and half-asleep. He hoped so badly that she wasn’t hurt. He could have forgotten to cut off the stove. Or a gas pipe could have leaked and caught fire somehow. Any of those reasons were completely plausible, but knowing Pidge…

Lance tripped on her other sneaker by the bedroom door on his way out and almost crashed into the wall, and then stubbed a toe on her pile of textbooks in the hallway. He paused for a moment, exhaling sharply and staring at the ceiling as he waited for the light throbbing to subside. But as he rushed to the living room, he nearly collided with the little robot Pidge had been building, just barely avoiding crashing directly into it and turning it back into a pile of scrap metal and screws. It fell over with a clatter and Lance scrambled to pick it up, only to end up stepping on a fairly large bolt and nut hiding in the carpet.

(With the same damn foot that he stubbed his toe!)

He hopped up and down for a bit, silently screaming as he held his ailing foot, but when he heard Pidge curse, he forced himself to ignore his pain and limped over to the kitchen. It really smelled like smoke, the rancid stench of something burned filling his nostrils and he desperately hoped she was okay because when he skidded to a stop in the kitchen, she was hunched over the stovetop and he didn’t want her to have burned herself or something.

“Pidge, are you okay?!” he yelled, grabbing a dish towel and using it to fan the air in the kitchen in hopes of clearing up the stench. “What the hell is going on?!”

She spun around with a wince, looking guilty. “I… umm… you’re kinda gonna need a new pan…?”

The relief that went through him was all-encompassing when he saw that she wasn’t injured. Her eyes were a little wild and she had white powder all over her hands and some parts of her face and definitely caught in strands of her hair. And there was some oil on her tank top, but other than that, she seemed okay, if not a little frantic.

Lance couldn’t help it. He took a few quick steps forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“Good grief, woman… You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he muttered in her hair. The beeping of the fire alarm finally stopped, though the noise rang in his ears for a few seconds afterward. “Why were you screaming bloody murder?”

Pidge pulled a little back and grinned up at him sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m okay. Just got a little freaked out.”

But that did beg the question what the hell had even happened. He glanced over her head at the stove. He could easily see the charred remains of what used to be his nice— _two day old!_ —frying pan and sprinkled all over it and his stove top was a crap ton of white powder. Some was even on the ground. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever was on his pan was the same stuff that was on Pidge.

“What did you do?” he asked incredulously, pulling away and stepping past her to inspect the damage more closely.

“Nothing. A fire broke out and I put it out quickly with some baking soda.”

Lance frowned, glancing at her over his shoulder. There was no way it could ever be that simple. Not with someone like Pidge. When she made messes, she made _messes._

“Really…?” Lance narrowed his eyes when she averted her gaze to the trashcan for a split second, clearly giving away the fact that she was hiding something. He was willing to bet if he opened the trash, he’d find a ton of burned or messed up stuff. “If it was so quick why is my pan destroyed?”

“What is this? The damn Spanish Inquisition?” Lance gave Pidge an unimpressed look and she rolled her eyes with a small huff. “Okay, fine! So I was trying to make something, but the only reason this happened was because I was listening to a recording of my last course’s lecture and I lost track of time and when I came back to the kitchen a fire had broken out and it ended up burned!”

Lance sighed under his breath, turning around to face her fully, and passively annoyed because this was so stupid and could definitely have been avoided if she had just been paying attention. He and Hunk had tried to drill it in her head over and over, but it never sunk in. She was so amazing at all her tech stuff; he just couldn’t understand how the concept of cooking seemed to elude her like nothing else.

“Pidge—”

“I know, I know.” She rubbed the lower half of her face and in the process, covered her lips and parts of her cheeks with the baking soda on her hands. “Pay attention. I get it, Lance. Spare me the lecture. It was an accident.”

Lance stared at her, with her hair a wild, tangled mess and the partial bags under her eyes, still smelling like sweat since she hadn’t showered yet and now with powder on half of her face making her look pasty. She looked super frazzled and flustered which was a sheer difference from how collected she usually was. In all his years of knowing her, he had never seen her look like such a mess and this stupid thing had happened and he just didn't understand how someone could possibly mess up that hard.

He couldn’t help it.

Lance cracked up and started laughing pretty hard, partially doubled over and holding his stomach. She looked so ridiculous and he could just imagine her freaking out over a small grease fire. It wasn’t even that funny, but he was so exasperated because she was an utter disaster with anything having to do with cooking and ever since she’d started spending so much time at his place, his life had gotten marginally more difficult, and it was frustrating, but she just looked so goofy and out of control.

And he loved it.

“Why are you so bad at cooking?” He tried to catch his breath between his peels of laughter.

Pidge’s cheeks blotched in anger. “It’s not funny!”

“Yes, it is.” Lance wiped an eye of his tears, shaking his head as he sobered up a bit. “I know you’ve been taking private lessons from Hunk, but holy shit, you’re still so horrible.”

“You could at least acknowledge the fact that I’ve improved a lot from before!” Pidge crossed her arms in front of her chest with a pout.

Lance shook his head again and turned to look at the thin hockey puck looking piece of charcoal resting in the middle of the sea of char and white powder. “What was this supposed to be anyway?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, tell me. I promise I’ll limit my teasing to two statements.” He poked at the charred little circle. “Were you making pancakes or biscuits or something?”

“…arepas,” she grumbled, so quietly under her breath he _almost_ missed it.

Lance’s brows rose in surprise, his humour dissipating when he stared at Pidge. Her expression was disgruntled as she wrung the bottom of her ratty tank top in her hands, but Lance was completely shocked by the admittance.

“You were making arepas?” he repeated softly.

“Look, I asked your mom for something easy I could make that she would make for you in the past and she gave me the recipe for her Cuban arepas and I’ve been practicing at Hunk’s for a week and I thought I had it down to a T and I was going to make it for you and this was supposed to be my stupid moment of triumph to finally get you to stop thinking I can’t cook at all plus you’ve been a little moody waiting for that interview so I wanted you to wake up with something comforting and I’ve improved a lot but clearly not enough because I failed. I just wanted to make you a little happier but I ruined all of them except this one and I was hoping this one would at least go well.”

She’d done all this for him. Despite how busy she was and how much she had going on, she’d wanted to do something to help him feel special. To make him feel better. He didn’t know how early she had to have gotten up to start making them, but those countless hours could have been spent studying. And yet…

He’d been ready to get mad at her earlier, but any frustration he’d been harbouring faded.

“You have like ten finals in a few days…” Lance said, still in partial shock.

“Six. And it doesn’t matter. You’re my boyfriend.” He found it utterly adorable that she still couldn’t say it without getting all flustered. “It’s the least I could do since I’m always stopping by here after class and eating all your food before I head home.”

Lance’s heart was thrumming hard in his chest. He couldn’t fully explain it, but looking at Pidge fidgeting in his kitchen with baking soda on her face, seeing some articles of her clothing on his furniture, seeing her projects and tools haphazardly strewn across his carpet, he couldn’t remember what his apartment had looked like before she’d infiltrated. And that got him thinking about how odd it would be for all of that not to be around. And _that_ got him thinking how ridiculous it was that she had to sneak out at the worst hours to spend the night at his place and how inconvenient it was for her to wake up super early to go all the way back to her parents’ home only to drive back to the city for classes.

She practically lived with him already. And it felt wrong that she had to keep going between places like this.

Because his apartment was just as much hers as it was his now.

“Pidge… move in with me," he blurted out.

She stilled for a second before she looked up at him, her face scrunched up in bewilderment.

“Wha…?”

Lance planted his hands on her shoulders, giving her a small shake. “I want you to move in with me.”

Pidge swallowed hard when she realised he was serious. “Lance… I— Why?”

“Because I woke up this morning about to have a heart attack and you’ve ruined three pans this month alone and last month you scratched up my best nonstick pan with a metal fork and somehow you broke my bread knife which to this day I can’t figure out how and you keep messing stuff up in my kitchen and you do eat all my food and I _desperately_ need you here with me.”

“I meant, why are you asking this right now after this mess?” Her eyes narrowed. “…Did you inhale too much smoke, Lance? Holy crap, I need to take you to an urgent care.”

He cupped her cheeks, smiling and feeling like he'd never been more right in his life. “There’s nothing wrong with me. In fact, I’ve never been so sure. You’re the smartest person I know, but holy shit, Pidge. You are a complete disaster. Can you please move in with me?”

“Lance, you sound kind of insane.” She laughed a bit, running a hand through her hair, though she was definitely trying to mask that hope in her gaze. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Yes I do,” he said gently, wiping some of the baking soda off of her cheek as he stroked her face.

“You… you actually want…?” Pidge stared up at him with wide eyes. “Like, actually? You know I can’t really cook, right? Plus I’m messy and I don’t think cleaning is necessary unless it impedes my life. And I’m kind of a hoarder.”

“I know.”

She chewed on her thumb nail, a suspicious edge growing in her gaze, but her cheeks were flushed and he could see that her lips were pulling up into a smile.

“None of that matters to me. I can’t help but feel like living here is meaningless if you’re not around. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You endanger my life every day. I tripped on your shoe coming out of the room and I crashed into your robot in the living room—”

“Did you _break_ Chip?!” Pidge gasped, a panicked look on her face. “Lance, I swear to God—”

“That’s not important right now—”

“Like hell it is! That’s my midterm project, Lance!”

She started to run out of the kitchen, but Lance caught her wrist and pulled her back to him. Pidge tumbled into his chest and scowled up at him, ready to fight him.

“He’s not broken! Let me finish.” He rolled his eyes. “My apartment is a biohazard because of you, and I’m glad I’ve had my tetanus shot because one of these days, I know I’m going to step on a rusted nail. But you’ve ingrained yourself so much in my life now, it just doesn’t feel right when you’re not here. So please. Move in with me. I just want to come home to you.”

He wanted that forever, but he’d hold off on telling Pidge something like that. He wasn’t sure how she’d feel about him saying it just yet. He didn’t want to scare her off. She still got all shy saying ‘I love you’ to his face, even though he always caught her whispering it in his ear when she thought he was asleep before she left to go back to her parents’ place. He’d hold off until she was ready. But he knew what he envisioned with her, and the longer they were together, the more certain he became.

“It’s like… it's a rollercoaster ride being with you, Katie. And I never want to get off.”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “…You really are crazy.”

“Crazy for you.” He clasped both of her hands in his and kissed them softly. “I need you here making my life hell. Say you’ll move in. Say you’ll move in or I’ll show up outside your bedroom window with a boombox and keep asking every day until you say yes.”

“Do you really want to risk the wrath of my mom…” she drawled.

Lance’s smile dropped from his face. He could never tell when Colleen was joking around with him or not, but she’d made him fear for his life the first time he’d come to pick up Pidge for a date all those months ago, and he was still wary around her.

“Okay then, I’ll show up at your grad department with bouquets of flowers all the time.”

“Lance, I do want to move in with you. I’ve wanted to for a while now, actually, but...” She gave him a serious look. “But only once you get into your first choice school. Then, I’ll move in.”

He blinked in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Get into your first choice med school. And then we’ll talk about it,” she repeated slowly.

“Wait, you can’t just make this monumental event in our relationship contingent on chance!”

“It’s not chance,” Pidge said, smiling as she looked at their clasped hands. “You’re going to get in. I know you will. But until that happens, I’m not going to make your life more stressful with the whole process of me moving in. I want you to be set first because stress won’t be good for our relationship. You know what it’s like living with me, and I don’t think having me around all the time while you’re waiting to hear back is a good thing.”

He could understand where she was coming from. Years of living together in the Castle of Lions made it easy for them to understand how to share a space with each other, but she had a point. He had been more moody while he was still frustrated with not hearing back yet. Lance didn’t agree that they should make it based off whether he got into his top choice, but Pidge was stubborn and he could already tell she wouldn’t back away from this.

“…Fine,” he conceded, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “But if I get in—”

“When,” Pidge corrected calmly.

“ _When_ I get in, you better tell your parents as soon as possible because I’m only giving you two days.”

Pidge rose to her tiptoes and draped her arms around his shoulders. “That’s fine by me.”

Lance smiled, leaning down to close the distance between them and giving her a soft, lingering kiss. Pidge hummed into it, her own lips also tugging into a smile. When he pulled back, she was full on grinning. He loved that she looked a little dazed.

Pidge snickered. “You have baking soda on your lips.”

“You know half your face is covered right now, right?” Lance kissed her nose. “There’s some on your nose now too.” Then he kissed her forehead and gave her a cheeky grin. “Your forehead too. You really made a mess today.”

“I'm sorry I ruined breakfast,” she said bashfully, toying with the collar of his sleep shirt as he led a small trail of little pecks down to her cheek and past her jaw.

“What are you talking about?” Lance murmured, nuzzling her neck and dropping a soft kiss there too. “I see a perfectly good one right here.”

Pidge snorted, but rolled her eyes. “Lance.”

“Sorry. Forgot.” He hoisted her up on his waist as he turned to leave the kitchen and Pidge squeaked a bit at the sudden motion. “Breakfast should always be eaten at the table.”

“You’re so annoying, Lance!”

But she was laughing, and he couldn’t help his pleased smile. Years ago, if anyone had told Lance he would end up hopelessly in love with Katie Holt, begging her to move in with him, he would never have believed it in a million years. But yet… here they were. And he couldn’t stop the wild fluttering of his heart and the indisputable feeling that even if Pidge had infected every corner of his life with her mess, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And he would never want to have it any other way.

She was a disaster, but through moments like these, he couldn’t deny that Katie was his home.


End file.
